


Woman

by Aroomie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Lambert (The Witcher), Choose Your Own Ending, Curses, Eskel and Geralt keep their mouth Shut, Frustrated Lambert, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Humor, Humor ending, I hate tagging, Lambert figures out how to play with his lady parts, Masturbate, Older Siblings Eskel and Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Open Ending?, Solo, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witch Curses, Woman Lambert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroomie/pseuds/Aroomie
Summary: What does a Witcher cursed to the wrong gender do?Figure out how to masturbate, of course!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39
Collections: MaMooRoo BIKM Bingo





	Woman

One slip up and a Witcher was dead. A slow Witcher was a dead Witcher. A Witcher associating themselves with the wrong person was, again, a dead Witcher. 

Unfortunately for Lambert, all of the above happened, except, he wasn’t dead. 

The youngest Wolf stares at the sky, squinting angrily at the clouds passing by, contemplating how the fuck he wasn’t dead. He had slipped up by not taking into account that there was more than one Witch, slow because he fell for the batting of her eyes at him, and cursed everything for following up on Keira’s tip. 

Never. Again.

Lambert sighed, bringing his hands to his face and scrubbed in frustration, his hands freezing on his cheeks as there was a notable lack of _stubble_ there. Lambert shot up into a sitting position, pawing at his face for another moment before scrambling to his feet and rushing over to a mirror tucked against the far wall of the cabin he was in. He didn’t think about anything else, just getting to that mirror, the Witches were dead, he had nothing to worry about other than checking himself. 

Lambert grabbed the mirror with both hands and held it to his face, staring at the reflection staring back at him and his breath seized in his chest, a chest now endowed with a pair of decently sized pillowy breasts. Lambert’s eyes widened as he touched his face, then the mirror, then his face again. 

“Sweet fucking cock licking son of a Fiend!” Lambert bellowed out loud, his voice now much softer, sweeter, and sounding completely wrong to be cursing as he did. Lambert looked down at his body, grumbling as he put the mirror down to now let his hands explore the new shape of himself, his brow pinching. 

“Fuck this… Vesemir will know what to do,” Lambert spun about, collecting his things and headed back to town to collect his pay… or at least he tried to. 

Lambert ended up leaving down, no pay, barely able to collect his fucking horse, and cursed to look like a fucking woman! Lambert did his best to ignore the fact that snow was falling, ignore that soon his brothers would be at Kaer Morhen as well… he is not looking forward to the mockery that awaited him.

A week into his travel, Lambert finally gave in to the urge to touch, grope, fondle, his body. Finding new ways to pleasure himself, to tease and get that rush going in his blood, gasping and moaning as he squirmed on his bedroll. It was all fine, great even, until he tried putting a hand down his pants and found everything coming to a screeching halt when he touched something new in a different way or the “wrong” way, and by the time Lambert had gotten to the gate of Kaer Morhen he was so frustrated and pissy that no one questioned who he really was when Vesemir opened the gates.

“How the fuck did a woman get up here?” Lambert heard Eskel whisper, no doubt to Geralt judging by the grunt that followed. Lambert’s new plump lips curled into a snarl.

“I will fucking end both of you if you fucking say any other mocking, snide, or degrading comment about this fucking shit! You hear me!? Fucking _END_ you!” Lambert stormed past them all, shoving his horses’ reigns into Eskels’ hands and stomped into the keep. 

“Well… It appears Lambert has gotten himself into a problem,” Vesemir said plainly, watching as the youngest Wolf stomped and slammed everything he passed until finally entering the main hall.

Dinner was a quiet affair, everyone giving Lambert strange or pitying looks as the Witcher picked at his food angrily, trying his best to navigate around his chest that now rested on the tabletop and got in the way of his plate… and view. Eventually, Lambert snarled and pushed away from the table and retreated to his room. 

Days passed by much in the same manner, his brothers wisely keeping their mouths shut after one incident with Eskel’s careless words and Lambert suddenly burst into tears. Lambert slowly getting used to his new body and sitting in with Vesemir as the old Wolf looked over old books and scrolls to try and find an answer. 

One day, Lambert didn’t’ even get out of bed, hiding himself away in the pile of blankets and pillows he had gathered from around the keep, his cocoon nice and warm. He tried exploring himself again, hands trailing across his breasts, circling his fingers around his nipples, pinching them as they pebbled and stood at attention. Groping and squeezing his breasts, his breath slowly quickening as he now reached down to explore the folds between his legs. 

He needed to kick off the blankets to have better reach, spreading his legs wide as he teased at the pearl of nerves, delicious pleasure shooting up his spine. Lambert licked his lips, staring at the ceiling before reaching down with his other hand, trying something he hasn’t before while on the road, and shifted his fingers. One hand continuing to pet and roll the pearl while his other traveled lower until he was finally able to press his fingers inside of himself. 

He gasped, loudly, hips jutting off the bed, and head pushing back into his pillows. He started to slowly thrust his fingers, rolling the pearl harder, faster, his fingers thrusting into himself at the same pace as he now moves as fast as he’s able. Gasping and moaning like a two-dollar whore as he fingered himself, his hips thrusting off the bed and into his hands as he squirmed, toes curling in the sheets as that familiar heat coiled tight low in his belly. 

“Lambert! Boy, you best be getting you ass re--” Vesemir’s voice suddenly filled the air, and, much to his horror, the old Wolf opened the door without knocking. Vesemir could only watch, utterly shocked, as Lambert’s eyes met his and suddenly the youngest Wolf’s body tensed and hips thrust up into his hands, a loud whimpering moan leaving the youngest Witcher as he climaxed all over his fingers before finally going limp on the bed.

They could only stare at one another, Vesemir’s eyes wide with shock while Lambert’s were slowly getting wider and wider with ashamed horror.

What the ever-loving fuck just happened?!


End file.
